You Are Lost
by MornieGalad
Summary: What if Gollum got separated from Frodo and Sam while they were still outside of Mordor. What will happen to our two Hobbit heroes now? Please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:I own neither Gollum, Frodo, Sam, Lord of the Rings, or your will to stop reading this story right now. So there. Now read.

**You are Lost**

Chapter 1: The Darkness

"I won't sit around and wait for him to murder us!" Sam declared. His eyes were begging with his master, and the Ringbearer's heart was torn in two. His mind groped for a compromise and stress began to build upon his spirit. Sam's eyes seemed to burn into him; Frodo wanted desperately to be out of this trouble. He desired to get out of this situation, but could do nothing. Nothing except . . . Frodo's hand unconsciously slunk toward the one ring. Sam glanced at their companion, the slimy former hobbit-like creature now known as Gollum. He appeared ready to pounce, a cat stalking a bird, prepared to make a kill. Then Gollum's eyes dilated and he shrieked horribly. Sam turned to see that Frodo had disappeared. In his place was nothing but air. Gollum began the chase.

"Get away, you!" Sam hollered, drawing his sword. Gollum screamed, and scampered away, lost in the darkness. Then Sam heard a scream from the opposite direction. He raced toward it, praying his master was safe.

"Frodo" He called. A whimper from a deep pit ahead was all he heard. He scurried down the edge, groping in the dark. His hand rested on a slimy body. An orc! He turned away in disgust.

"I'm here, Sam," a pained whisper came from the left. Sam's right hand rested on the soft skin of the Ringbearer.

"Are you all right?" he asked fearfully.

"I don't know. I'll try to walk," Frodo winced as he rose, leaning heavily on Sam. "Nothing is broken," Yet something in his master's voice caused Sam to worry. He wanted to see him, for he sounded as if he weren't well. That would have to wait until morning, though.

Somehow the journey upward seemed much more difficult than the slide down. Sam reached the top first, and waited anxiously for Frodo. After quite some time, he called down. There was no answer.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam yelled, alarm evident in his voice.

"I'm . . . all right" Sam barely heard the labored reply.

"Take my hand," he ordered. Moments later Frodo found the extended limb and took it in his hand. Sam heaved his master up. Both Hobbits collapsed. Frodo shivered violently, drawing his elven cloak about him. Instants later, sweat poured from his brow. He closed his eyes, bringing the ring close to his neck, his hand secure about it. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

1_Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything in Mordor, including Frodo and Sam, or close to Mordor, because they technically haven't yet entered Mordor. That is Sauron's domain, which reverts to Tolkien because he is the one who invented Sauron, much to Sauron's dismay. Anyway, I don't own it, be happy that I'm admitting it and enjoy the story. MornieGalad_

**Chapter Two: The world of Night**

"Mr. Frodo, we have to get going," Sam whispered. He knew Frodo needed to rest, but didn't want Gollum to return and take the ring. The Ringbearer struggled, uneasily, to his feet. Seconds later, he collapsed again, his pain and the weight of the ring evident in his eyes. His breath was raspy and labored. It broke Sam's heart to see his master suffer so.

"What can I do, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked urgently. Frodo didn't respond, so Sam thought quickly. He grabbed his canteen and groped in the darkness until he found the pool that had been near the campsite. He quietly filled it, his eyes darting about for any sign of an enemy. Once the canteen was full, Sam hurriedly crawled back to Frodo.

"I've brought you some water, Mister Frodo." The ringbearer lifted his head and tried to sit, Sam's supporting arm aiding his pained body. He only drank a little of the water, but Sam could tell his master was grateful for every sip.

"We should set off." Frodo breathed. Sam hoped with his entire being that they would be able to. He stood up steadily and offered his hand to Frodo, who still sat on the ground. The ringbearer was swaying so badly that Sam could easily see his form moving in the darkness that surrounded them.

"Come on, Mr. Frodo," he silently implored the ringbearer. As if in response, Sam felt a cold, shaking hand in his own. Even this small movement caused the Hobbit great pain and he collapsed again onto the rocky terrain. He was gasping for breath and his body would not stop shaking. Tears came to Sam's eyes as he tried to still his master. Frodo was still coughing hard when Sam took him tenderly into his arms. The ringbearer was too exhausted to open his eyes, and Sam felt the body in his arms go limp. For a moment, he panicked. His mind was a blur of fear and questions as tears freely poured down his face. Then he felt the shallow breath of his master against his chest. Frodo wasn't dead, he reassured himself, just sleeping. Sam gently took Frodo's right hand in his own.

"I'm here, Mr. Frodo. Don't you worry about a thing," he whispered into the silence. The only thing Sam could hear was the quiet, wheezing breath of Frodo. They had almost settled into a soothing pattern, a slow pattern, but it was there nonetheless. Sam wished he could see his master to inspect his wounds now while he rested. He was terrified that dawn would never come and he would be stuck with his master in the world of night, a night without hope. Nothing could be worse than that, he thought as he drew Frodo closer.

Then he saw it. Burning brightly in the sky was a single star, one Sam supposed to be Earendil, the herald of the dawn. With that small elven light, Sam seemed to return to Lothlorien, where the stars had ever shone as bright as this. He seemed to hear the voice of the Lady of Lorien speaking to him, asking him again if he wanted to leave Frodo and return to the peacefulness of the Shire.

"No," he answered. This time Galadriel hadn't even finished her question before his affirming reply. A beautiful smile lit up her eyes and made the Hobbit blush deeply under her gaze. She leaned down to his height and whispered the same words she had spoken to Frodo not so long ago.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future." Then Sam heard a sound like the wind upon the sea, and all returned to the world of night, save the faithful light of Earendil. For a moment, all was silent, and then the sound of the wind returned, but without the sweet relief of a cool breeze. A puzzled look plastered itself on Sam's face. In his arms, Frodo seemed to become uneasy, as if he too were conscious of some evil presence. His hand left Sam's and crept toward the chain around his neck. Sam noticed this and quickly grasped it firmly in his. Frodo's blue eyes shot open. He tried desperately to speak, but couldn't catch his breath. Sam put aside the puzzle of the wind for a moment to tend to his master. He ran his hand comfortingly against his back until Frodo turned his head to him, an urgent look in his eyes.

"Sam," he whispered raspily. "Listen." His companion did, but all he could distinguish was the sound of the wind. There was nothing more to be heard.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" Just as the words left his mouth, Sam perceived a sound, similar to webbed feet, flapping against the rocks nearby. It was growing unnervingly louder. Sam's eyes locked with Frodo's. Gollum.

"We have to get out of here," Sam whispered as quietly as he could, so as not to alert their accompanist to their plan. Sam mentally scolded himself for not urging Frodo to leave sooner or carrying him off. "Can you get up, Mr. Frodo?" he begged, hoping, just hoping that he would be able to. A pained expression crossed the older Hobbit's face, but he knew Sam was right, they must flee. Using all his strength to move his injured body and every bit of might he had not to cry out in pain, Frodo shoved himself up. He tried to steady himself once he was on his feet, but he was swaying uncontrollably. Sam jumped up and put his arms around his master to steady him. Frodo breathed deeply to assure himself that he was finally standing and Sam saw his master nod at him. They were ready to set off.

"Precious!" came a familiar cry from behind them. Sam quickly turned and drew his sword as Gollum threw himself at the Ringbearer. Sam made a dash at him, but the little minion was too quick for him, although the movement distracted him enough that he only brushed against Frodo. As it was, that was enough to throw Frodo off balance, and, although he struggled ferociously, his body smashed to the ground. The ring unveiled itself from its shelter under Frodo's shirt. Gollum sensed it and leapt at Frodo, but Sam was quicker this time, blocking the small creature's attack as Frodo mustered the strength to draw his own sword.

"Get away, you!" Sam screamed, positioning himself between his master and his opponent. Before Gollum could move another muscle, a piercing shriek filled the air. Gollum shrieked with a mixture of fury and terror and dashed toward Frodo again. This time blood was spilt. Sam's blade connected with Gollum's right arm in a flash of protectiveness of his master. Gollum cowarded back.

"We mustn't let them get the precious!" he pleaded with Sam, his aged blue eyes growing large with concern. As he said this, the nazgul shrieked again, closer this time. Behind him, Sam could hear his master's agonized breaths. Before him, Gollum looked ready to spring again. There seemed to be no escape for them, Sam thought, not daring to let his guard down, though.

Frodo lay on the rocky ground convulsing in pain, practically unable to think or move. It took such a great effort for him not to reach for the ring. He knew that if he put it on, the pain of his wounds would disappear, but then they would see him. Frodo tried to focus on Sam, although his vision was blurred from the pain. He had to focus on the goal, which was ultimately to . . . Another piercing shriek from the nazgul interrupted his thoughts and this time he couldn't help but cry out in pain. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see anything, no longer wanting to be conscious to the world.

Sam tried to think fast, as the screams of the ringwraiths drew nearer. He and Frodo were in a tight fix and it seemed that only a miracle could save them, but Sam promised himself he would not give up hope. Perhaps, by some change of fortune, the wraiths wouldn't find them and they would be spared. Whatever happened, Sam would hold on to hope until the last breath.


	3. Chapter 3

1_Disclaimer: I wish I owned Mordor, Frodo, Sam, Gollum and the Ring, but I do not. I am thankful that a certain Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien owns them, however, because if they belonged to me, they would be lost in about ten feet of snow on Caradhras. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and do not neglect your duty to review it. _

_MornieGalad_

**Chapter Three: Deadly Decisions**

"Don't put it on. They'll see. He'll see. You can't put it on," Frodo whispered to himself as his hand wavered over the ring. Subconsciously, he felt death closing in on him. Had their entire quest, all the suffering and loss, been in vain? No, it couldn't be true. with all his remaining resolve, Frodo drew his hand away from the ring and into his pocket. He grasped the phial that Galadriel had given to him and whispered the incantation. A brilliant light pierced the darkness. A few feet away, Sam had drawn his sword and was poised to engage the Nazgul in mortal combat. Frodo wracked his brain for an escape: any escape.

Sam was perspiring, striving to conceal his fear as he glanced about at the scene. Behind a boulder crouched Gollum, unimportant to the servants of Mordor. Their attention was fixed on Frodo, but Sam barred their path, for his motive was centered around the subject of the enemy's focus. He mustn't allow any harm to come to Frodo. The Nazgul unsheathed their swords and closed in on Sam just as Frodo struggled to his feet. He took Sam's hand in his and, so the beasts could not see, he released the ring. Then, before he could second guess himself or Sam could object, he dashed away, hoping again hope that the Nazgul would follow him, believing he still had the ring. Fortune favored him for once and the Ringwraiths sped after Frodo, leaving Sam to stare bewildered after his master.

"No, master mustn't go," cried Gollum from his hiding place, but his cries fell on deaf ears. The rush of wind from the wings of the fell beasts knocked both him and Sam to the ground. Their battle cries filled the air and Sam felt he could feel his master's rapid pulse as the enemy covered him like a blanket. He started to follow them, but stopped, thinking of the ring. Frodo had given it to him for protection, so he had to keep it from the enemy. Was there any use in hiding, though, Sam wondered? Once they discovered Frodo didn't have the ring, they would surely sense it and find him. There was no place he could hide in his barren place that would conceal him from the Wraiths. Then what was the point of it all? Hope was lost. If that was true, though, Sam wondered why the Nazgul had even chased after Frodo. Couldn't they sense that he no longer had the ring? Whatever the reason, they had followed him.

The Nazgul screeched. Then again. It was coming closer. What had they done to Frodo? Was he still alive? Another screech. Sam's mind raced. In a last, desperate effort, he doe beneath his elven cloak, braced for the end and prayed to the Vala that it would be quick.

_So, what do you think. Yes it is a cliffie. No, neither Sam nor Frodo is doomed, yet. Any advise for the next chapter would be very much appreciated. _

_MornieGalad_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own this. _

_**Chapter Four: The Red Dawn of the East**_

Only after the cries of the Nazgul could be heard no more did Sam emerge from beneath the Elven cloak. The Nazgul were nowhere to be seen. What had made them leave? Perhaps there was more power in Galadriel's gifts than he thought. He would contemplate that more, later, though, for now he had to find Frodo. He got up, his cloak sticking tightly to his shirt, due to his perspiration. In the distance, he saw what looked like a fallen star: the light if Earendil. Sam rushed to it and found his master, lying flat on the ground, the phial clasped in his frigid right hand.

"Mister Frodo," he whispered, fearing the worst.

"Sam, is it safe?" Frodo choked, referring to the ring.

"Yes. Are you all right, Mister Frodo?"

"I've been better, but I think I'll survive. The Nazgul seemed to fear the light of Earendil." Sam nodded. "We'd better get going," Frodo whispered, using his companion to steady himself. "Sam, I'm strong enough to carry the ring. Give it to me," he said gently. Sam slowly, hesitantly, returned the ring to his Master. "Gollum was leading us that way. We have to find the stairs he spoke of."

"Do you still trust what he said after he just ran off like that?"

"I don't see where we have much of a choice." The younger Hobbit sighed in defeat and they headed off in what they presumed to be the correct direction. After a while, their guess was confirmed as a slight projection of red sunlight began to make itself known and Sam got his first clear glimpse of Frodo since the previous day. The Ringbearer looked as if he were about to collapse, shaking terribly, like a leaf in the wind. As the light grew, Sam was horrified to see that the Ringbearer's right sleeve was coated with dried blood.

"Mr. Frodo, what happened?" he whispered, indicating the bloodied arm.

"When I fell into that pit before the Nazgul found us, I slew an Orc, but not before he struck me," Frodo whispered. Sam had to strain to hear him.

"Let me see it, Mr. Frodo."

"Sam, I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Mr. Frodo. Now let me see it."

"Sam . . ."

"Master," Sam's eyes were pleading now and, wearily, Frodo conceded. They sat down and Sam peeled the sleeve away from his master's skin, Frodo wincing as he did so. The wound had turned as green as the fields of the Shire, quite a contrast to the ringbearer's otherwise pale skin. Sam sighed, knowing all too well that this wasn't good. His brown eyes met his blue ones.

"It's either infected or poisoned, Sam," Frodo whispered, his voice soft and pained.

"You knew?" his gardener asked. A weak nod was Frodo's only reply.

"I have to get to Mount Doom soon. I won't lay this burden on you any longer, Sam."

"Master, don't talk like that. We're both going to see the Shire again, so don't go giving up on me. Not now. Come on, now. I'll wash that out and then we'll be on our way." Sam gently poured the water from his canteen over the wound. Frodo nearly cried out in pain, but somehow he managed to maintain his resolve. When he had finished, Sam ripped off part of his own shirt and tied it around the injury.

"That should take care of it," he declared. Frodo tried to rise on his own, but collapsed into Sam's waiting arms.

"I'm glad you're with me, Sam," he whispered as he younger Hobbit helped him to his feet. They set off together in the direction Gollum had suggested, toward the east and the rising sun.

_Author's note: Sorry it took me so long to update. This is not the end of the story, though it might seem like it. More will come eventually, just have faith. In the meantime, please review. A thousand thank yous,_

_MornieGalad_


End file.
